The Problem with Love
by worldspinsmadly
Summary: Does Gemma love Kartik or Simon, or is it both lust? Felicity and Kartik? Pippa and Tom? Or Tom and Ann? Felicity and Simon and Pippa and Gemma? All the romantic entanglents take their toll and secrets causes friendships to crack. Romance and drama!


**Disclaimer: The characters are Libba Bray's, although I may have modified some aspects of their personalities.**

This story follows the platonic and romantic relationships of the Spence girls, many of which are intertwined. This story is completely seperate from the books, it does not follow the same timeline as the books and the characters may have different personality traits. The characters are all likely to be a bit different to the book characters, obviously because I can't write like Libba Bray and have my own interpretation of the characters, and because I need to shake them up slightly to fit my story. Just assume that Gemma has been in Spence for quite some time, she is engaged to Simon etc, you'll piece the rest together from the story. The story is likely to switch between many POVs, most likely the main girls, Kartik and perhaps Tom and Simon.

Lastly, reviews rock and will really encourage me to continue the story so if you like it, review it please! If you don't like it, review for the hell of it as well, yeah?

This chapter only follows one relationship, really, but I have many, MANY more planned, that I really want to write.

**Kartik**

She is standing in the driveway with him, his arm casually twisted around her waist, touching her lightly enough to look affectionate, but not enough for her grandmother or brother, standing a short distance away, talking to the headmistress with the face like stone, to protest. Although I do see her brother's eyes flicker back and forth between gaps in his conversation, which reassures me slightly. At least at the times that I am not there to keep a watch out, someone is.

Her pretty blonde friend stands beside them. She seems to be talking to her, making a point of ignoring him, although I do notice her eyes narrowing slightly at his arm around her waist. With jealousy? Or is it dislike of the boy? Their brunette friend is also present, with her older suitor. She is standing away from them, in the company of her mother – an older, sterner looking version of her daughter, and her father, who seems several years younger than the man at his daughter's side. He is looking slovenly at her, his hand tightening at his side, as though keeping himself from grabbing her gloved fingers, looking at her with unmasked gusto in his eyes. She seems keen of avoiding his gaze, looking around at everything and everyone except the man by her side. She seems to squeeze her body into itself, so as to get as far from him as possible without moving. My attention is diverted back to the other group as the headmistress and her company – Gemma's grandmother and brother – move towards the three grouped together. Simon, the fiancé – it almost sticks in my throat – moves his hand from her waist in order to remove his hat to them, causing me to smirk with undue satisfaction. I am far enough away from them all to be masked almost completely by the trees, but some of their words float down to where I am standing.

Her grandmother reaches for an embrace. 'Gemma, darling, we must leave, I'm afraid. It'll be dark soon and we mustn't leave your father alone in the house by himself.' She smiles and turns towards the blonde friend, kissing her on both cheeks before turning into the carriage.

Her brother steps forward, hugging her, before, as his grandmother did, turning towards her friend. He tips his hat. 'Felicity – Miss Worthington – a pleasure to see you, as always.'

The blonde smiles playfully, almost as though holding in laughter. 'And you, Tom.' She turns away before Simon can make any gesture of farewell, moving up towards the school, leaving her standing alone with him and her brother.

Tom stands awkwardly, obviously waiting for Simon to make his goodbyes. Neither of them move. The grandmother calls out from her carriage. 'Ah, Tom, perhaps you will say goodbye to Miss Cross and her family?' She smiles as Tom starts, then casts a final look at his sister and the man at his side before crossing the short distance to the other family. The grandmother smiles indulgently. 'Don't be too long now, Simon, we must be back before dark.'

Simon's full laugh crosses the distance between us and I see him lean in towards her, tucking a strand of that red hair neatly behind her ear. Her gaze is on the ground, and when she raises her eyes to meet his, her cheeks colour slightly. I feel myself growing hot from annoyance. His hands skip along her waist again, and he whispers something to her, causing a giggle to rise from her throat. Smiling to himself, he raises his hat to her and enters the carriage just behind her brother, finally leaving. She stands until the carriage is at the end of the driveway and pulls out of sight. I see her head turn and her eyes scan the trees. I step out from my space and her eyes settle on me. Her arm twitches slightly, as if she is going to raise it, but she stops and looks for a second, before turning around and walking through the thick wooden doors of the school, closing them firmly after her.

**Pippa**

He came, as he said he would. Mr. Bumble. He stands next to me, as he has done all day, as though staking his claim, perhaps thinking the large ring he presented me with earlier doesn't do the job well enough. I can see his hand twitching by his side, but he does not move to take mine, thank goodness. My tolerance for him is not that high. My mother stands the other side of me, beaming, her eyes sliding towards the large stone one my finger, which only succeeds in making her smile even larger until I fear her face will split in two. My father stands before us, politely engaging Mr. Bumble in conversation about his law firm and asking after his children.

His children.

This causes me to close my eyes and force myself to think of happier topics. Gemma and her family stand near us, with Felicity standing alongside them. They are saying their goodbyes. Simon's hand is placed around her waist in quite a comfortable position, and though her eyes seem to drift towards the trees more often than is usual, – I smirk as Felicity turns towards me and winks as I hear Simon politely ask if there is a problem as her attention once again drifts towards the forest, her eyes gazing intently as though hoping to spot something in the trees – Gemma seems to enjoy his touch. I shudder at the thought of Mr. Bumble's hand on my waist.

Tom is close by as well. I lift my face towards the school, and as I expected, I spot Ann's head in the window of the bedroom, her gaze fixed lovingly on Tom's blond head. I follow her gaze to Tom, just as he raises his head and looks towards me. I flush slightly and avert my eyes. A smile threatens on my lips. I hear him excuse himself and make his way towards us. My mother looks up as his arrives, holding her hands out to embrace him.

'Tom, you are leaving already?' She tilts her head and beams brightly at him. 'What a pleasure it was to see you after so long.'

'And you, Mrs. Cross.' Tom smiles at her. 'I'm afraid we must be back before dark, though.' He turns to me. 'Miss Cross.' He bows slightly and I grin.

'Very nice to see you, Mr Doyle.' I incline my head towards him, almost laughing aloud at the formality of our situation. The Doyles arrived a little before my own family did this morning, which allowed us to snatch a few moments of privacy together, before I was flung into the company of my mother and fiancé. The startling contrast between those moments and these are quite humorous. He smiles at me and lifts my gloved hand to his mouth for a kiss. This is daring enough, as it is almost too formal for the situation. He places my hand back by my side, before my cheeks have a chance to flush, his smile still in place, although perhaps a little wider now.

'Mr. Bumble, Mr. Cross.' Tom tips his hat to my father and suitor, who civilly acknowledge him, and moves away towards his carriage. I can hear him as he says his last goodbyes to his family and climbs into his carriage. It pulls away, disturbing the gravel, but I daren't stare as they move away, and instead focus on the ground, instead listening to the droning monotone of my future husband as he informs my father on how best to deal with his taxes my mother's pleased titters as she fawns on the man that is to save my family from ruin through my marriage.

**Felicity**

Gemma passes me in the hallway, nodding her head but not stopping, continuing on up the stairs towards her bedroom. This is a familiar routine, one that occurs always after visits from her family and Simon. It is her guilt. Her guilt at seeing Simon and the thoughts of what she has done, and, despite her claims to the contrary, continues to do. Sometimes the mood comes over her when she catches a glimpse of the engagement ring on her finger. She stares at it for several seconds, before excusing herself. Sometimes, there are tears in her eyes. She feels guilty about her Indian boy. I know she sees him. She visits him when it is dark, thinking she is alone in her secret. We know. Me, Pippa and Ann. Ann told us that she left in the dark and sometimes didn't come back until the sun was dangerously high. We scoffed at the idea at first. We didn't believe that Gemma – _Gemma_ – was leaving the school secretively in the middle of the night. But after a night of spying confirmed that Ann was indeed telling the truth, it didn't take long to piece together why she was leaving and who she left to see.

She loves Simon. That is clear from the way she acts around him and the way she speaks about him. I am unaware of the extent of her feelings for the other boy, but I feel they may be just as strong. I see her scanning the forest on our walks, looking for him, or thinking of excuses to visit the lake and the boathouse, hoping for a glimpse. She risks her relationship and her reputation by sneaking to see him – that alone speaks of the strength of her feelings. I don't begrudge her her boys. The more the merrier. But I resent it sometimes. I resent that she is desired greatly by two men. I am not unused to that, but to be required for the pleasure of my company rather than more superficial reasons – that I am unused to, and that I resent.

I excuse myself and leave the hallway, back out the huge front doors into the sunlight beyond. The fresh air is inviting and I move further away from the school. I pass Pippa and her family, still standing and talking, and respond to her pleading glance with a sympathetic smile. I nod politely towards her parents and suitor as I pass, unwilling to stop to converse. I have had quite enough of mindless chatter for one afternoon. Having to suffer through Simon's painstakingly bad conversation and attempts at charming quips earlier is quite enough to do me for the rest of the month. I have become accustomed to those now, and cope simply by ignoring him. I am sure he senses my dislike, but then, I am not subtle. It is a pity, really, as our friendship used to be quite strong. I daren't lament this as I make my way further down the gravel path, towards the edge of the lake. I only spent my time in his company today because my parents, once again, failed to attend.

My eyes prick slightly at the memory of the letter I received this morning. After months of promising that they _would_ come this time, a letter had arrived with the short note that Father was called out on an emergency launch and my mother's dog, Norman, had taken ill and so both would be unable to attend. I had been questioned about it by the other girls, of course, when I informed them that my family would not be in attendance after all, but I have become quite skilled at masking that humiliation. I reach the edge of the lake and sit on the grass at the shore, not caring if my dress is spoiled. I had truly believed that they would come this time; the same way I truly believe they will come every time. I close my eyes and allow a tear to escape. And another one. I do not cry for my parents at the school. I will not suffer that embarrassment for them. I see the other girls' sympathetic looks after each Assembly Day that I spend alone, but I don't respond.

The tears come faster now, hot on my cheeks and I let them. I let them drip from my face onto my lap. I watch as they land on my dress and spread out, soaking a small area of the dress. The water laps gently at my feet, coming closer and closer but I don't move. It is calm, settling. I move down on the bank and dip my hand in the water, creating ripples across the calm surface. I swirl my hand and bring it up to my face, allowing the cool water on my fingers mix with the salty tears. I sit like this for several moments, until I hear a noise. I look around, but there is no one on the path behind me. Leaves crunch, and the sound of a horse. Someone from the gypsy camp is coming through the woods. I scrub at my face hard, washing away any evidence of tears just as the two horses and their leader come crashing out of the trees. I stand up and turn, ready to walk away and leave them to their business, but as I look up I see him staring at me.

It is Gemma's boy.

Kartik. He holds the two horses by their manes, one on either side of him, and his eyes are on mine. His shirt is ripped at the top, perhaps due to a struggle with the horses, and there is a smudge of dirt on his cheek but he is a handsome boy. That much is clear. I smile at him and he responds with a slight grin, his lips curling upwards. They are nice. Red, a strong contrast to his sallow skin, and warm looking.

**Kartik**

'You're that Indian boy.'

'Ah, well observed, madam.'

The smile that was there vanishes and she frowns, considering. 'Are you mocking me?'

'Mocking you? Why ever would you think that?'

Her frown deepens. 'You are.' She moves her head sharply, causing a strand of light blonde hair to fall out of her pins down the side of her face. It catches the light in quite an attractive manner.

'Ma'am. I assure you, I am not.' I tighten the girdle on the horse, patting her down as she stirs.

The blonde girl sniffs, raising her head to meet my eyes. 'What do you do, anyway? Is this your job?'

'Pardon me?'

She raises her eyebrows to me as if I'm stupid. 'You aren't a gypsy, but you travel with them. I assume you have your uses.'

I can't help it, I laugh. 'I suppose I do.'

'So you take care of their horses. You're their stable boy.' She is not asking. She is certain of herself and her knowledge. I smile.

'In a manner, I suppose.'

'Yes. But it's more than that. You can't just be a stable boy for the gypsies. They trust you. And you have a reason to be with them.'

My head snaps up. 'I enjoy their company, nothing more.'

She steps closer. 'No, there's certainly more. You could be a stable boy in any town or city. You could work for a family in London and instead you chose to work in the mud in the countryside living in a camp with gypsies with few facilities and provisions? You don't do that lightly, sir.' She takes another step towards me. I can see flecks of lighter and darker gold in her hair. 'You have a reason for travelling with them.'

'My only reason is the freedom, ma'am, and their stories.' Another step. I can see each individual strand of hair, each seems to be a different shade of yellow and gold, coming together to produce a vibrant blonde.

'No. Their stories aren't worth that.' Light freckles are dusted across the bridge of her nose, unnoticeable unless you're right in front of them. Her eyes seem slightly red and a drop of water is trapped in her eyelash.

'Some are.' I swallow. My head feels a little hazy, and I've lost track of the conversation. I am just saying things to fill in the gaps between her statements. She is less than a footstep away now.

'You won't tell me.' She shuffles slightly, stirring the leaves. Her voice has dropped to a low whisper. 'It's okay...you will.'

'Nothing to tell, ma'am.' I swallow again, attempting to move backwards, but my back hits the hard bark of a tree trunk. Her eyes widen, framed with light, long lashes. They move as she raises her head towards me and I find myself staring captivatingly at them. There are some marks down her face, like tears, but this girl is controlled and calm.

'That's okay. Not yet. Suspense is always good. For a while.' Her breath is in my face now. She can't move any closer without being on me. Her small body sways slightly, brushing lightly against the front of my jacket. Instinctively, I reach out to catch her. My hands clasp either side of her waist and her eyes lock in mine. I seem unable to let go of her, or maybe I can't? She sways again and I can feel her under my hands. She closes her eyes. Her lips are red and smooth, invitingly plump, slightly curving upwards. She opens her eyes again and stares into mine. I lick my lips instinctively, as a reflex and she sways closer still. Her lips have captured my attention – so soft and silky. The air in the small gap between us seems electric, and her magnetic force prevents me from turning away, or removing my hands from her. She leans up towards me, stretching slightly on her toes and suddenly my lips are on hers, meeting together smoothly. Wind whistles around us and she presses closer until we are both leaning against the bark of the tree. Closer and closer...a small sound escapes her throat, making me want to delve deeper and I pull her closer hungrily, wanting more, wanting another sound, until panting, she pulls away. Her eyes are wide and her chest rises up and down frantically, matching my own. She moves backwards swiftly, breaking my hands away from her waist, a slightly smile on her swollen lips.

'My, my. You're quite forward.'

'I—' I gape at her. My mind cannot formulate a response.

'It's okay.' She's suddenly in front of me again, as she was before, her voice low and husky. I can feel her breath as I did before and I close my eyes against her gaze, willing my heartbeat to slow. I open them and she stands on her toes again, this time drawing her lips level with my ear. 'I think I like forward.'

With a small laugh, she drags her lips against my cheek and whirls around, lightly skipping away between the trees. She turns back when she reaches the edge of the forest, her hair almost completely escaping its knot now. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but instead a loud laugh comes out, brilliant and happy, so contagious that I instinctively laugh along. She smiles, and turns away, and does not look back again as she makes her way back up towards the school.

**This is a story involving mostly the romantic entaglements of all the Gemma Doyle Trilogy peeps, I have pairings in my mind of who I'm putting with who, should the story continue. If you like it, please review!**


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